Tuesday, May 23, 2006

A little too early for this...

So on my way to work this morning at the ungodly time of 6:45 am. Yes 6:45 am...I had to set up a conference at the Harvard Club. Yes the Harrrverd Club. So distinguished and polished. I felt richer and more educmacated just walking through the crimson doors onto the crimson carpet through the crimson lined walls with crimson lamp shade adornments (you get the picture). Anyway after two 6 trains wiz by the stop at 103rd going express (cause obviously us poor folk in east harlem don't need to go to work either) I get on an empty 6 train, meaning there was plenty of room to maneuver without getting arrested for subway grinding.

At 86th street I move to the middle of the car with a good 10 feet of room on either side of me clear. Of course the rats rush onto the train looking for a seat (rats = commuters...not actual rats. Although how funny would that be. Rizzo the Rat from the Muppets hops on the 6 with his little business suit and micro sized NY Times. That would be a sight). After the rats find their seats I still have tons of room on either side of me and there's open space galore. Which means only one thing. That people will crowd around the nearest person they see.

It's amazing, no one knows what to do with empty space on the train. The first thing people normally do is find that first pole and cling to it, like a "dancer" at a strip club.

(Side note: Could there be anything dirtier than a subway pole? I mean I know strippers slide up and down the poles at strip clubs, but how many strippers work at a given club a day? 30, 40? And compare that to how many people touch the subway poles a day. A few thousand? And don't give me the hand is cleaner than crotch excuse. Not unless you know where everyone's hands on that train have been. At least with the stripper you know what you're getting - Dirty whore. Who knows what you're getting on a subway pole. Dirty whore. Sleazy business execs oozing with grease. The occassional child molester. I rest my case).


I betcha she wouldn't be licking this pole if it was in a strip club. But isn't the subway dirtier?

Anyway so this scumbag stands about 2 inches from me with his bookbag shoved into my kidneys. I mean come on dude, you got like 10 feet of empty real estate next to you and you have to fucking dry hump my leg on the train. This is followed by some goth chic moving to within 3 inches on my other side. I look left beyond the guy practically standing on my shoulders and you can park a 18 wheeler in the middle of the train without touching anyone. But look right and there's about 30 people huddled together like penguins trying to brave the Antartic cold. I'd expect this kind of behavior during peak rush hour times but at 7am, come on...give me a freakin break. Oh and it doesn't end there.

On my way walking down 45th between Park & Madison on route to the Harrrverd Club (btw I was so tempted to say to members of the Harvard Club that I went to Yardsley and had a perfect 4.0 - that's South Park reference from that episode where the kid is hitting on Wendy in competition w/ Stan. You know the episode where Stan throws up on Wendy everytime he talks to her) this guy about 50 feet in front of me is walking full steam, staring straight into his Crackberry. You can see where this is going. I move about 15 feet to the right to give this schmuck on wheels room to drift all over the sidewalk like Billy Joel driving on a backroad in the Hamptons and what does he do...make a fucking B line right towards me. Not looking. Head down. Had I not turned my shoulder in a Matrix type move I would have knocked his front teeth out. And I should have...but at 7 am I was still a little sleepy to be throwing body checks around the streets.

I may start a petition to make walking and using your CrackBerry illegal...similar to the cell phone ban while driving. Although I wish I had morphing abilities so that at the last second I can morph into a telephone pole and have these crackberry assholes slam head first into the pole. Then morph back into a human to laugh at them when they try to pick up the 1,000 pieces of crackberry fragments all over the sidewalk. That'll teach them to walk with their head up next time.

Anyway so that's been my lovely day so far...and I just got a leg cramp from being on my feet for 5 straight hours so i'm gonna go limp around for a while.

Until next time America...don't be kind to each other out there until someone shows kindness first. That sounds a lot better than "be kind to each other out there".

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

--Thossy

Chris I believe it's pronounced

Haaaavaaaaahd

Hope Paste and Bay step it up against the unit.

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